


The Importance Of Being Nardole

by TheStrangeSeaWolf



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Caring, Delirium, Diary/Journal, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fever, Fever Dreams, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, POV Nardole, Post-Episode: 2015 Xmas The Husbands of River Song, Promises, River Song's Diary, Twelfth Doctor Whump, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:35:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24897046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrangeSeaWolf/pseuds/TheStrangeSeaWolf
Summary: A recent prompt let me take a closer look at Nardole. Although I let him appear in some stories set in series 10, I mainly used him as a side character, more or less a plot device and comic relief. However, receiving a prompt asking for a hurt/comfort setting between Twelve and Nardole I was forced to think about him as a person. And discovered that I didn't do him justice. He deserves to be treated with the same care and respect I have for Bill, Rusty or the TARDIS. Heck, I even thought more about Billy Blue Otter or ____ than I did about Nardole. He might not be the brightest bulb in the box, he might be a nuisance at times, but he is caring, considerate, brave, determined, loyal to a fault, and, above all, he is always true to himself and others. With this series, I try to rectify this. Here is Nardole's side of the story.
Relationships: Nardole & River Song, Twelfth Doctor & Nardole, Twelfth Doctor & Nardole & River Song
Comments: 11
Kudos: 26





	1. The Promise

Nardole contemplated if he should take his leg off before clipping his toenails or if he should try to do it like a conventional human being would. As always, he wondered why the Doctor had been naturalistic in some aspects of his body, while he ignored others. For example, his feet, which were never seen by anyone because he almost always wore shoes, were super realistic, including growing nails. On the other hand, his hair was ultraviolet, and the beautiful curls were invisible to most species, except the ones who could see in the ultraviolet spectrum.

“Nardi?”

He looked up. It was a rare occasion that River came to see him. Usually, she just called him until he appeared, not caring if he was busy on the opposite side of the house.

“Ma’am?”

“I have to talk to you, curly head,” she said, ruffling his hair. She didn’t see it but other than a lot of people he knew she never treated him as if he was bald.

“Sure!” Although he wasn’t sure what she wanted to tell him. She seemed tense and serious, traits he didn’t know from her.

“Nardi, it’s just a few hours until dawn and you know what this means?”

Oh. So, that was it. The day in the library was near. She was close to death. Well, that sure was a good reason to be a bit tense.

“Yes, Ma’am. Time to go to the library, soon.”

It was probably not the right thing to say. But what is appropriate to say to a time traveler who knows what nobody should know: the exact time of their death?

River nodded and sighed.

“Yes. And I need you to make a promise.”

A promise? Oh, he could do that. He was good at keeping promises! He promised himself to cut his toenails every second Wednesday at 10 a.m. and he never missed out on that. He promised to feed the bagpipe piranhas every day at noon, and he did. He promised to bring fresh baguettes for breakfast and he did so, even at the time his legs needed repairs and he had to walk on his hands to the bakery down the street. Promises were kind of his thing.

“Sure, Ma’am,” he beamed.

“You know, I know things the Doctor doesn’t know, because for him, it is…” she trailed off and obviously searched for another way to word it.

“You know things that the Doctor isn’t allowed to know, but they are important and so, you want to tell them to me. Because you know that good old Nardi can keep his voice box shut!” He tried to be of help.

“Wow. Not exactly. But I can work with that.”

“Yeah, work with that, Ma’am! I’m here for it!”

“When I’m gone…” River now walked to the window and looked to the garden, where the Doctor stared to the large duck pond, he had put in there years ago, “Nardi, I know him. I know how he is. Which is why I love him. But when he loses somebody, somebody he loves…”

She turned around and faced him, tears glistering in her eyes. He hadn’t seen her cry often. Maybe twice in all the past 24 years.

“Oh, Nardi, you have never seen what happens when he loses people. People who are dear to him, I mean. There is a reason he is known as the Oncoming Storm. That’s why I’m worried, deeply worried what will happen once I am gone.”

“Don’t you worry, Ma’am,” he said quickly. He didn’t like to see his boss sad. He didn’t like to see anybody sad, in fact, but especially, not River. “Good old Nardi will keep a good watch over him!”

He patted against his chest, which gave a metallic sound. The Doctor had promised to give him a fleshy chest as soon as he found one on one of the biotech scrap heap planets.

“Good old Nardole,” River smiled at him, “yes, that’s exactly what I need you to do. To keep a watch over him.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Nardole bowed slightly.

“But more than that. You know how he is. He might neglect himself. He might neclect his hearts. He always cared about others but never about himself. As long as he is in his TARDIS, she will take care of him. But when he’s running around…”

“Don’t worry, Ma’am, I will be on his heels day and night!”

He saw how her face fell and how tears filled her eyes once more.

“Oh, sorry for the wording!”

He added quickly.

“There’s one more thing.”

River went to her desk, opened a secret drawer with a key she carried around her neck and took out a blue book. She stroked the cover.

“My diary. It is full, Nardole. Some of the things in there… they are very important, you know? But other things… they are very personal. I don’t want everybody to read it. And especially, I don’t want the Doctor to read them. Not even when I’m gone. So, I want you to make two promises.”

Nardole lifted his hand and stretched out two fingers.

“I can do up to ten, Ma’am! The Doctor gave me two hands, complete with five fingers!”

River smiled at him. 

“I only need two, Nardole. The first one is that when I’m gone…” she took a small slip of paper out of the diary and handed it to him, “I already instructed the TARDIS to bring you to these coordinates and you will find that diary in the location marked. Take it, keep it, and keep it safe. You are allowed to read it and make good use of what you read to protect the Doctor and help him on his travels. But he is not allowed to read it himself.”

“I will, Ma’am!”

He said ceremoniously, putting his right hand on the diary as if he swore an oath. River gave him a small laughter.

“Good old Nardi. Good, hilarious, loyal, old Nardi.”

She grabbed him by the ears and kissed his forehead, then she laid her hands on his shoulders, which were carved wood for the lack of better fitting material.

“And the second promise is that you make sure he keeps his promise. That he stays true to his name and never forgets it. He is a good man and you, Nardole, will make sure that he stays one, even in the final hour, in the deepest pit. When he is without hope, without witness, without reward. Make sure he never acts cruel or cowardly. Make sure that if he fails, he always makes amends. Act as his consciousness. Act on my behalf when I am no longer here to do it.”

“I will, Ma’am,” Nardole said gravely.

“Thank you. And now… I was never one for long goodbyes….”

River stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his sturdy figure.

“Goodbye, Nardole. Keep good care of the Doctor and keep good care of yourself, too.” 

“Cuddle!” He mumbled against her curly, shiny hair. He wished his lachrymals were connected to his systems so he could shed some tears, but unfortunately, the Doctor was still looking for the right adapter.

River stepped back, ruffled his hair and smiled, then she wiped some tears from her eyes and sighed. She turned around and headed for the door. At the doorframe, she stood and looked back.

“Nardi?”

“Ma’am?”

“Only to make sure you understood me correctly: you have full permission to kick the Doctor’s arse, should need be!”

Nardole straightened himself and lifted his hand to his curls for a decent salute.

“Understood, Ma’am! It will be my pleasure, my absolute pleasure, Ma’am!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the first version, River handed Nardole the diary to keep it safe, but someone pointed out that River had it in the library, so this couldn't have happened. But Nardole has the diary in Extremis, so I think this is what really happened.


	2. A Cyborg's Duty Of Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @DalekSpider requested via twitter: "Nardole caring for a very badly hurt Twelve and being torn between worried sick about him but also wanting to kick his arse for being an idiot. Snark. Banter. Cuddles. I just ADORE the dynamic between these two characters!"

This time it was enough! He would really, honestly, kick his royal Time Lord backside for neglecting his duties and breaking the oath!

He was so done with the renegade Time Lord mocking him and sneaking out of his office, travelling time and space, going out on ridiculously dangerous adventures and then coming back just seconds later, thinking he, Nardole, wouldn’t be aware!

When the TARDIS materialized in the Doctor’s office, he stood, arms folded, in front of the doors.

But nothing happened.

He waited.

Probably, the Doctor checked the surroundings on the monitor until it was safe to come out.

But he wouldn’t go away.

No more.

He would be standing here, waiting for him, giving him the long overdue rubdown of a very long lifetime.

Finally, the doors opened, but the Doctor didn’t show up.

Maybe he knew what was coming and didn’t dare to come out?

Nardole decided that it didn’t matter if the Doctor was inside or outside. He was slating him now.

He entered the TARDIS.

His blood curdled at sight of the scene in front of him – at least in the parts of his body that were connected to his cardiovascular system.

A trail of encrusted blood lead from the doors to the console. There was more blood on the panel and in front of it lay the huddled figure of the Time Lord.

“Sir!”

Nardole rushed to his side and carefully turned the Doctor on his back.

His clothes were torn and wet with blood and there were many wounds. The shirt was ripped apart, the fabric barely noticeable anymore because of two large wounds on his chest and his abdomen. His eyes were shut.

Nardole brought his ear near to the Doctor’s face. To his relief, he was breathing. Shallow and uneven, and there was a rattling, gurgling noise that came with it, but, thank the stars, he was alive!

“Sir? Doctor? Can you hear me?”

He examined the body. Strax had taught him a thing or two about first aid and he tried to determine if the wounds were merely superficial or if there were internal bleedings, too.

“What have you done, Doctor? Have you tested two-way-chainsaws? Danced with a werewolf? Said that “Jaws” was a great documentary to a gang of sharks?”

The Doctor started to cough.

Nardole immediately reached around his shoulders and brought the Doctor’s upper body in a more upright position, securing it with his own body, so the Doctor could breathe more easily and get rid of whatever made him cough, should need be.

The Doctor opened his eyes and looked at him, his face only inches from his own.

“Nar…dole!” He coughed.

“Yes, Sir, I’m here. Good, old Nardi is here!”

“You… n…” another series of coughs.

“Yes, I’m Nardole. Thank the stars, you recognize me!”

“…nuisance!”

Of course, even in a life-threatening situation the first thing the Doctor did, was insulting him.

“Ah, well, seems you are not too severely injured if you can already insult me again, Sir!”

“I’m…” the Doctor bent forward as another coughing fit shook his body.

“You are definitely not in a condition you should try to speak, Sir!”

“…alright!”

The Doctor finished his sentence, then, suddenly, his whole body slackened, and he sank against Nardole.

Nardole panicked and checked for the pulses.

To his relief, both were there, uneven, but recognizable.

The Doctor had just lost consciousness.

Nardole needed to bring him to the TARDIS medical bay.

He reached around the Doctor’s shoulders and his legs and lifted him up. It was a good thing that he was a cyborg, because the Doctor was much heavier than he had expected. He really needed to search more thoroughly for the secret cookie and chocolate stashes the Doctor hid in his office. And he needed to have a serious talk with Bill. She had to stop bringing cake or cupcakes from the canteen whenever she met with her tutor.

Nardole placed the Doctor on the examination table. He took the scissors and removed what was left from the Doctor’s coat and shirt.

He started cleaning and bandaging the wounds on his upper body, some of them still bleeding although the attack seemed to have taken place a few hours earlier. The one on the chest was especially nasty. But it seemed that although it was severe, the lung itself was not damaged. 

At least the Time Lord was breathing more evenly now, and there was less rattling and gurgling.

He almost looked peaceful, lying stretched out on the table, the upper part of his body bandaged.

There were more wounds on the arms Nardole had overlooked so far. Bites and claw marks. It seemed the Doctor had tried to protect himself from some kind of animal attack.

Now that he saw this, he looked down to the Doctor’s legs and saw that the lower parts of his trousers were also shredded and drenched in blood.

He started to remove the Doctor’s trousers.

“River…”

The Doctor mumbled, half-conscious.

“Not River, it’s me, Nardi!”

“Call you Nardi? What…” the Doctors voice dropped so low Nardole couldn’t understand what he was mumbling. It was something along the lines of “weird kink” and that he was too tired. The Doctor closed his eyes again.

Good. Maybe better the Doctor slept while he took care of him. He would know everything better otherwise and instruct him about what he should do, even if it was utter nonsense.

As Nardole took care of the several bites on the Doctor’s legs, he realized that those wounds were a bit older than the wounds on the abdomen and already infected. It took some time to remove the fabric from the wounds, clean them properly, treat them with antiseptic and bandage them.

In the end, Nardole was quite satisfied with the result of a neatly bandaged Doctor who looked more like a mummy than a Time Lord. He looked even a bit healthier than normal with his slightly pink cheeks.

Wait.

That couldn’t be right.

The Doctor was always pale.

Nardole checked his temperature.

347 degrees Hendrassolon.

Much too high for a Time Lord.

Probably the infection.

The Doctor opened his eyes and looked at Nardole. His eyes were glassy.

“Awwww,” he smiled, reaching with his bandaged hand up to Nardole’s cheek, stroking it with his thumb, “you beautiful!”

Yes, most definitely the fever was too high. The Doctor needed antibiotics and, in the meantime, he had to bring his body temperature down, somehow.

The TARDIS provided some antibiotics which he injected.

Now, with the wounds treated, there was no necessity to keep the Doctor on the examination table. He needed to bring down the fever, but this could be done somewhere the Doctor had it a bit more comfortable.

Nardole took the Doctor in his arms and brought him to a hospital bed the TARDIS materialized in the medical bay.

The Doctor was shivering now.

Nardole tucked him in.

The Doctor grabbed his hand.

“You don’t leave me, do you?”

He asked, fear in his glassy eyes. He obviously still assumed Nardole was River.

“No, don’t you worry, I won’t!”

Nardole assured the Doctor as he got up to get some crushed ice for bringing the temperature down.

The Doctor clung to his hand.

“No, please, Nardi, dear Nardi, don’t leave me! Don’t leave me here, all alone!”

Now, this was really off.

Nardole crouched beside the bed and stroked the Doctor’s grey, sweaty curls.

“Don’t worry, Doctor, I’m here, I’m taking care of you!”

The Doctor still refused to let go of his hand. His eyes were still glassy, and he looked as if he had seen something terrible.

“I have to punch this wall, you know?” He whispered as if he was telling him a big secret. “It’s Azbantium, you know? But… I will punch it, you know? Punch it, until it comes crumbling down.”

Nardole had no idea what the Doctor was talking about. He was obviously in a delirium.

“Yes, you do that, Doctor. You can do that while I fetch some ice for you, alright?”

“Ice,” the Doctor mumbled as his eyes fell shut, “I like ice!”

Nardole tried to free his hand from the Doctor’s and place it back on the bed.

The Doctor’s eyes snapped open again and he grabbed Nardole’s sleeve. 

“You come back? Please say you do come back, Nardi!”

“Of course, I come back, I’m just heading for the kitchen and I’ll be back in a minute.”

Nardole assured the Doctor. The Doctor smiled and reached up to Nardole’s head to clumsily stroke the invisible curls.

“Good. That’s a good Nardole. You are a good one, Nardole, you know that? You take your duty of care serious, very, very, serious. And that’s good. You are a good man, Nardole. You are a better man than I am. You take care of the people around you. I have a duty of care towards my companions, too, you know? I have to take care of them, so they are safe,” the Doctor babbled, “I fail. Oh, I failed so often,” suddenly, the Doctor started crying, “I fail, I fail, I fail, over and over again, I fail.”

Nardole bowed down to the bed and took the sobbing Time Lord in his arms.

“Shush, it’s alright Doctor, it’s alright.”

He softly stroked the Time Lord’s back.

“I’m such a bad man. I’m such a miserable companion.”

“No, you are not, you are a great man. Your students love you, you know? Bill loves you. And I…”

“But I kill them. I kill them all.”

The Doctor sobbed and Nardole softly rocked him in his arms. He felt hot against his artificial skin. He had to bring the fever down, quick, even if this emotional pain seemed to be just as bad as the fever.

“There, there, everything will be alright, Doctor. But I have to take care of your temperature, you know? I have to help your body to get the fever down, you know? And therefore, I have to leave you now to get the ice. Will you let me do my duty of care now, Doctor?”

He let go of the Doctor and looked into his watery eyes.

“Ice? Duty of care?”

The Doctor asked, obviously trying to puzzle the pieces together in his fever-hazed mind.

“Yes. It is my duty of care to get you some ice.”

“Duty of care. Important,” the Doctor gesticulated widely, “you do your duty of care, Nardole.”

The Doctor sank back to the pillows and closed his eyes.

Nardole sighed as he headed for the kitchen to get some crushed ice from the freezer. The Doctor had exceptionally soft hands and could be incredibly friendly and tender when he was running a fever. And he showed his soft, hidden, vulnerable side, the one that probably needed a lot more care on a regular basis. Unfortunately, he had to cool the Doctor back down to his usual, gruff, insulting self.

Nardole mixed the crushed ice with cold water and put cloths into it. Then he wrapped each of the Doctor’s body parts which weren’t injured and therefore bandaged with an ice-cold cloth and a towel. There weren’t too many parts left and some the Doctor for sure wouldn’t have approved if he would have been fully conscious.

At first, the Doctor seemed totally indifferent to it, which told Nardole that the temperature was critically high. But when Nardole finally placed a cloth on the Doctor’s forehead, he tried to jump up.

“Sontarans! Perverting the course of human history!”

He shouted, grabbing Nardoles wrist. Nardole extricated himself from the grip and forced the Doctor back down.

“No Sontarans here, Sir! Just me, Nardole.”

“Nardole?”

The Doctor asked as if he saw him the first time.

“Yes, me, good old Nardi. Bringing your fever down, Sir!”

“Nardole,” the Doctor mumbled, falling back, smiling and probably asleep before his head hit his pillows.

Over the next few hours, Nardole worked tirelessly to get the fever under control. He exchanged the wet cloths frequently and used up a lot of crushed ice in the process but luckily, the TARDIS instantly refilled it.

The Time Lord was fighting against the duvet when he felt too hot, accusing Nardole – or Missy, or the Master or the prime minister, whoever his fever phantasies just told him – that he was trying to roast, cook, or steam him. And he was complaining he was trying to deep-freeze him when he was shivering because he felt cold. He said he was parched, but when Nardole brought him something to drink, he didn’t want to take it and it was a battle to keep him hydrated.

So, Nardole was constantly adding and removing blankets, exchanging cloths and towels and enduring insults. He happily did it if it just helped his favorite Time Lord to recover.

It was in the small hours when it seemed the Doctor had found some peaceful sleep at last. Nardole felt dead tired and let himself sink into a chair next to the bed. He nodded off instantly.

When he woke up, he saw that the Doctor was eying him from the bed. His eyes were nearly back to their normal, interested and slightly amused twinkling.

Nardole got up and checked his temperature.

“288 degrees Hendrassolon, nearly back to normal, Sir.”

He stated, relived.

“Of course, I’m back to normal. You shouldn’t have battled the fever; it was a superior Time Lord healing process and you prolonged it.”

The Doctor snapped.

Ah, well, it seems he really was feeling better.

“Yeah, well, I thought a bit of a prolonged torture would serve you right after you neglected your duties and broke your oath – again, Sir!”

He shot back, breathing secretly a big sigh of relief.

“It was just a short hop. Like getting a bag of crisps from the shop.”

“In Birmingham?”

Nardole hadn’t forgotten that incident.

“On Jighar 9, to be honest.”

“Where you happened to have a slight argument with a few jaguars in the shop over the best flavor?”

“Boar-wolves.”

“Ah, boar-wolves, that makes everything better. Well, at least it explains the bite wounds.”

“One boar-wolf, to be exact.”

“Just one?”

“Yes, well, it was completely my fault. I saw a boar-wolf puppy and thought it had lost his mom in the royal hunting event on Jinghar 9. Stupid tradition. I convinced the Queen to abolish it, now.”

“Good. Which doesn’t explain the injuries.”

“Well, I took the puppy and wrapped it in my coat. Then, his mom came back. She wasn’t too amused finding me trying to puppy-nap her offspring.”

“Understandable.”

“Yeah, well, I gave it back after she shredded me.”

“And so, you went to the TARDIS and headed home.”

“Yeah… well, there was a bit of a difficulty.”

“Let me guess, you were attacked by sword-wielding vampire-monsters?”

“No, that would have been ridiculous! I fell into a boar-wolf trap when I headed back to the TARDIS. They have spikey things in there and they kept me from falling deeper by catching a hold of my upper body. Took me quite some time to free myself and crawl out of this pit again.”

“Well, that explains why the bite wounds seemed to be older and were already infected.”

“Probably, yes,” the Doctor shrugged, inspecting his bandages.

“This has to stop, Sir! You see what has happened. You could have gotten yourself killed and then? Me guarding Missy? What did you even _think_ sneaking out of office to go to a dangerous planet?”

“I got an invitation for the royal hunt,” the Doctor shrugged.

“Oh, for Rassilon’s sake, Doctor! I got invitations for promotional trips every week and if I would attend all of them, I could build hundreds of blanket forts with overpriced heating blankets! You don’t need to follow every invitation you get!”

“Ah, good you say that. I will remind you the next time you try to force me to go to one of those stupid parties on campus!”

“A graduation ceremony for your own students isn’t a stupid party!”

“Let me know when they make it a rock concert instead of some boring prom and I tell you when I will not deem it a stupid party.”

Nardole sighed. The Doctor was a hopeless case.

“Promise me that you will at least attend Bill’s graduation ceremony!”

“As she is no official student I will be spared, I think. Speaking of…” the Doctor suddenly seemed insecure, taking deep interest in one of his bandages, “Bill… doesn’t have to know about… all… this, right?”

Ah. Seems at least the Doctor cared what Bill had to say about getting himself killed for stupid reasons.

“I don’t see how you want to explain the bandages to her, but my lips are sealed,” he shrugged. “I will tell her that she stops bringing cupcakes from the canteen, though.”

“Why?” The Doctor seemed genuinely shocked.

“Because if she keeps feeding you, you exceed the buckling load of my artificial backbone. I don’t have to remind you that you only invested in light aluminum instead of heavy-duty steel, do I?”

“Are you trying to tell me I’m too heavy for you, scrap heap?”

“If I’m a scrap heap it is entirely your fault, Sir!”

“Oh, why don’t you just get lost, Nardole!”

The Doctor replied, throwing a pillow at him. He really seemed to be feeling a lot better.

Nardole turned around and headed for the door.

“Nardole?”

“Sir?”

“Come here.”

Nardole turned around, the Doctor indicated he should come closer.

He took the few steps to the bed.

“What is it, Sir?”

To his surprise, the Doctor stretched out both his arms.

“I said, come here!”

Nardole bowed down and the Doctor really, properly, wrapped his long arms around his sturdy body.

“Thank you, Nardole, thank you for taking care of me!”

“Cuddle!”

Nardole replied as he gave his weird, favorite Time Lord a big, heartfelt cyborg-bear hug.


End file.
